


Fight With Me (Let Me Touch You Now)

by xobarriers



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance, The Used
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Background Bert/Ray, Bandom Holiday Fic Exchange 2020, Blood, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:01:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28442073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xobarriers/pseuds/xobarriers
Summary: The vamp draws back, slightly, staring at him with those wide eyes. “Who are you? You taste nothing like the others.”
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 10
Kudos: 52
Collections: Have Yourself A Merry Little Fic Exchange





	Fight With Me (Let Me Touch You Now)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AcidBat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcidBat/gifts).



Flashes.

That’s all Frank remembers these days. Tiny fragments of the past, pieced together into memories that seem larger than life, odder than reality. The tiniest snapshots of what he used to be before everything changed. 

Everything in the past is murky or strangely clear, nowadays. Bert’s assured him that this is normal. Dying, even for the span of several hours, is more than enough to fuck up your core memories for good. He tried explaining it to Bert, once, how it felt like his mind was a chalkboard and someone had taken a barely damp sponge to its surface, scrubbing hard across some memories and barely smearing others. Bert had just laughed at him.

Which… fair. Frank knew how dumb it sounded. And Bert did understand, even if he laughed. He had ruffled Frank’s hair, after, and given him that stupid grin, and Frank knew he got it. 

As far as Frank could tell, the memories never really came back. He’d only had a few months to remember, but it had been years for Bert. Much, much longer for some of the others. But, like Bert’s said before, it was fucking worth it. Twenty years of memories were nothing in the long run, a blink of an eye compared to the decades to come. He couldn’t get sick anymore, would never have to deal with his shitty lungs or shittier stomach, wouldn’t have to spend half his damn paychecks on health insurance. Wouldn’t need to work ever again, actually.

See, they took care of their own. When Bert took a shine to him and brought him back to the warehouse for the first time, Frank felt more at home than he’d ever been. They genuinely seemed to want him there, seemed to get him, to understand that there wasn’t really anything left for Frank back in the city. He really didn’t have anything to lose.

But god, it hurt. It hurt way more than Frank had expected. He can still feel the ghost of Bert’s mouth on his neck, the biting ice of fangs. The pain wasn’t even the worst part of it- he could feel himself draining away, his life disappearing down Bert’s throat. He had grasped feebly at his shoulders, hands clumsy and slow, gasping for air that never quite touched his lungs. 

When he woke, only flashes. 

By now, Frank’s used to the warehouse. It stands tall, crumbling at the edges, by the old mill pond on Graham Point Road, a good fifty minute drive from the town he’d grown up in. Nobody comes near the warehouse; Frank had experienced it himself, before he turned- the overwhelming sensation of sudden fear, of eyes turning to his every move, of the ground shifting under his feet. If Bert hadn’t grabbed his shoulder, he would’ve run. He still isn’t quite sure how the nest manages it, but he definitely won’t complain. 

The town had trawled the river across the field, looking for his body. He’d watched them through the cracked door, Bert whispering jokes into his ear as the search team worked. The team had stayed far from the warehouse, and Frank and his nest were left alone. 

He loves it here. Bert’s the best friend he's ever had, the nest more of a family than his own ever was, and he hasn’t been sick a single day since the change. It was even easy to get over the whole drinking blood thing; their forays into the woods always turn up plenty of deer, and Bert’s assurances that the area’s actually overpopulated make killing them seem a mercy rather than a crime. He still can’t bring himself to join in whenever they happen across an unsuspecting hiker, but he’s sure that’ll come in time. 

Surprisingly enough, it was the other vamp nest that was the hardest thing to get over. He had never really thought that nests would be so fiercely territorial, so hateful towards each other. The lightning fast, brutal attacks from the nest over the ridge left him stunned the first few times he witnessed them. The equally brutal responses from his own nest shocked him even more. They seemed to clash over anything, any tiny misstep- a foot set over the constantly shifting border between the nests, a wounded deer in the wrong place, a disturbance in the night, so much as a glance in the wrong direction. Frank had recoiled from the first fights, the ferocity like a physical blow, but eventually had joined in. This was his nest. Nobody got to fucking touch them.

He doesn’t exactly like the rivalry. Nobody really does, he’s guessed; there’s always an air of resignation whenever the tension sparks up again. He keeps his mouth shut about it, though, sticks close to Bert’s side whenever things get rough, and loves his nest with everything he’s got. 

It helps that the other nest is rumored to be a fucking horror show. Nobody’s ever made it close enough to see the full thing, but they know the entrance to the nest is hidden in a series of abandoned mine tunnels on the far side of the ridge. The scouts who have made it close have reported that the tunnels are black and shadowed, full of odd noises and false turns. Frank knows he doesn’t have much room to talk, given that the entrance to his own is in a rotting warehouse, but there’s something about the old mines that touches a nerve. It feels so wrong, so evil. 

He’s lucky he lives where he does. Lucky that Bert was from the right side of the ridge. 

Things start out smoothly on his next hunting trip. The vamps he’s with are fun to be around, witty and cool, and he’s enjoying every moment. He’s spending most of his time with Bert and Ray, Bert’s maybe-something, and giving them shit for every glance they exchange. He knows it’s working, because Ray keeps getting flustered and Bert’s jokes are getting even sleazier, and it’s genuinely more fun than the hunt itself. Even with the absolute joy he gets from the hunting process, from staying silent and watchful to sprinting as fast as he possibly can in pursuit of his nest’s next meal, being around family’s the best part of his life. 

They zero in on a young buck fairly quickly. Frank crouches in the bushes at Bert’s gesture, twigs stabbing through his clothes and grazing across his skin. The hunt’s lead vamp tilts her head, eyes bright in the gathering dusk, and lets out a low hum, the frequency just barely reaching Frank’s ears. The deer, both far less sensitive and too far away, doesn’t react. 

The group, following her silent orders, move forward. They spread out enough that Frank can’t see Bert beside him; he can still hear the grass bending beneath his feet and the quiet breathing of the vamp to his right, but nothing meets his gaze besides the foliage around him. He keeps moving forward in a straight line. 

Within a few moments, he knows he went too far, too fast. The hunting party is drifting to the left. He can feel the subtle changes in everything around him; the suddenly empty feeling of displaced air settling down, grasses bending back into place, near-silent footsteps fading away completely. He almost turns to follow them, but a noise to his right draws his attention. It’s so, so soft, so slight, that he nearly misses it. Instead, he pauses.   
Something’s there.

Frank sinks into his crouch, narrows his eyes, holds his breath. Whatever this is, it feels nothing like an animal. He’s being watched. 

Oh, fuck this. He stands abruptly, swiveling to sprint after his retreating companions. 

He barely takes a step before something slams into his side, sending him sprawling in the brush. His head hits the side of a tree, bark rough against his scalp, and he’s just started to curse and scramble away when there’s a burning pain where his neck and shoulder meet, fire and ice sinking through his shirt and embedding themselves into his skin. He cries out and reaches for a stick, a rock, anything to defend himself.

Then the pain is gone. He pulls himself up and shrinks back against the tree, his gaze meeting the wide eyes of an unfamiliar vamp. His mouth is smeared with red - Frank’s blood, he realizes with a twist of nausea - and his chest is heaving. 

“Who are you?” the vamp spits, upper lip curling. 

Frank presses a hand against the bite, blood tacky and slick against his fingers. “Get, ah, fuck- get the fuck away from me.” He tries to stand, legs shaking under him. 

The vamp draws back, slightly, staring at him with those wide eyes. “Who are you? You taste nothing like the others.”

“The others? I-” Frank pulls away sharply, letting out a soft snarl. “You’re one of _them_ , aren’t you? Fuck you, get away from me.”

“I’ve never seen you before,” he presses, ignoring Frank’s words. “Who are you? Are you new?”

Frank doesn’t deign to answer his questions. “Fuck. You.”

“You’re new,” the vamp states, sounding almost proud of himself. “Wonder if that’s why you tasted weird. Like… like you’re human, but better. Sweeter, maybe.”

Christ. Frank steps back again, eyeing the vamp warily. “Old enough to know better than to talk to you. Fuck off.”

“Frank?”

Bert’s call, even from a distance, sends a wave of relief through Frank’s body. He relaxes, just barely. “I’d leave now if I were you.”

“Frank, huh?”

He hates this vamp. “They’ll kill you. Get out of here.”

He finally gives Frank one last, lingering, suspicious glance and runs, disappearing into the gloom far too quickly. Frank sags back against the tree.

By the time Bert finds him, his neck is practically healed. For some reason Frank can’t quite pin down, he doesn’t mention the vamp. There’s no reason to worry anyone else, he supposes, and he isn’t interested in sparking another conflict. It’s fine.

Frank’s not lucky enough to avoid the vamp for long, unfortunately. 

This time, he’s completely alone. Bert’s off somewhere, most likely with Ray, and he has ventured alone into the surrounding woods, too stir crazy to stay in the warehouse alone for much longer. He’s uncomfortably aware of the quiet of the forest, every leaf underfoot a symphony in the silence blanketing him. 

When the vamp springs at him from the darkness, his reflexes kick in faster than his mind and he jumps back, avoiding his flashing grimace with ease. As the vamp staggers, he shoves him, piling his full body weight on top of him and driving him into the branches of a low hanging fir. The vamp growls. 

“What the shit are you doing here?” Frank hisses. “Leave me alone. Get the hell out of our land, go home. I don’t fucking want you here.”

He recovers from the blow and grins at Frank, an evil, cocky little smirk. “Like I’d come all this way for you. Just had the misfortune of seeing you again, I suppose. Glad to see the feeling’s mutual… Frank, yes?”

Frank presses his forearm against the vamp’s throat. “Get my name out of your fucking mouth. You don’t get to talk to me.”

“Little Frankie all worked up?” he manages, words tight around Frank’s chokehold.

He snarls and slams the vamp against the tree again, taking care to knock his head on the trunk. “I could kill you right now, you know that? You can’t just waltz over here whenever you feel like it. Get out of here now or you’ll regret it.”

As much as Frank would love to kill this asshole, he’s still not sure if he can. He’s never killed one of his kind before. He never wants to.

The vamp twists away, nailing Frank in the stomach with a fist. “And I could kill you. You’re lucky I’m not bored.”

“Christ, get the hell out of here.” Frank has to take a calming breath after his stomach stops aching. “If you don’t wanna run into me again, stay on your side of the damn ridge. You’re just asking for trouble.” When he thinks he can get away with it, he takes a casual step back, away from the vamp’s reach. “Go.”

He narrows his eyes. After a long moment, the air heavy between them, he backs up. “See you around, Frank.”

“Fuck off.”

Before the final word can leave Frank’s lips, he’s gone, branches swaying in his wake. 

Once again, Frank keeps his mouth shut. Nobody needs to know.

Next time he sees the vamp, it’s almost funny. He’s running full tilt through the woods after a rabbit, swinging past trees, eyes focused on his retreating prey, when he turns a corner and slams straight into the vamp’s chest. The vamp yelps, caught off guard, and they both tumble to the forest floor. 

“Jesus,” Frank groans, pushing himself away as fast as he can. “You again?”

The vamp, his eyes a startling hazel up close, stares at him for a moment. “Could say the same about you, fucking hell. Watch where you’re going.”

“Shouldn’t have to watch where I’m going in my own damn territory,” Frank grouches, brushing off his clothes. 

The vamp catches his wrist, fingers surprisingly gentle, and finishes the job for him. Frank just stares. “My fault,” he supplies, a smile ghosting at the corner of his mouth. His teeth are fucking tiny, and Frank can’t help but wonder how they’d even managed to hurt him. 

He tugs his arm away, but doesn’t move to distance himself. “Your fault. Why are you here?”

“Can’t I explore a bit on my own time?”

“Not on my side of the ridge. Answer me.”

He rolls his eyes. A few strands of hair, long and dark, fall over his forehead. “Was obviously looking for you. Nobody on my side’s willing to knock me down.”

Frank sighs and steps away. “Whatever. I’m busy, and you need to go home. Now.”

“Gerard.”

“What?”

“I’m Gerard. Thought I shouldn’t leave you at a disadvantage for too long.” The vamp - Gerard - grins at him, far too cheerily for Frank’s liking.

“Like I care.”

Hours later, Frank’s still rolling the name over in his mind. Gerard. Weird.

The following week, Bert hip checks him a bit too hard. Frank’s still trying to regain his balance when Bert ambushes him a second time.

“You smell funny.”

Frank grimaces at him. “You’re getting too direct in your old age.”

Bert snorts, grabbing his hand and holding it tightly to his chest. He gives him the dumbest, most earnest look Frank’s ever seen on his face. “Bitch. I mean, _funny_. Something’s different about you. Meet any pretty vampettes lately? Digging any chicks? Your hormones are all out of whack, man.”

“Vampettes? Fuck out of here.” Frank still isn’t totally sure what he’s getting at. He’s also pretty sure ‘vampettes’ isn’t a word, but he decides to let it slide. “Why are we talking about my hormones, anyway, when we can talk about the way you smell after a night out with Ray-”

“Oh, fuck you!” Bert detaches himself with as much dignity as he can muster. “Those aren’t hormones.”

“I know. Trust me. Speaking of, if you don’t do your fucking laundry, like, yesterday…”

He affects a wounded expression. “Jesus, fine, fine. You’re breaking your old man’s heart, you know.”

“Every fucking day I wish I’d asked Ray to be my sire instead.” Frank’s joking, and he knows Bert knows he’s joking, but he still plants a huge, messy kiss on Bert’s cheek as he passes him. 

Bert ruffles his hair and makes a face. “Ew. Fuck off.”

“Love you too!” Frank straightens his hair and grins as he heads outside. 

“Hey, Frankie.”

This time, Frank doesn’t even bother looking up from his crouched position. “You’re scaring my dinner. Buzz off.”

Gerard squats beside him, and Frank glances up to see a fake pout on his face. “Rude. You’re awfully close to the ridge, you know. I could kill you pretty damn easily.”

“But you won’t.”

“Nah, not today. I’m feeling generous.”

Frank can’t help but smile, even if he’d like to punch Gerard in the throat. “Mmhmm. You seem to be a generous guy. Haven’t killed me yet, after all.”

Gerard leans in, uncomfortably close, and points to a clump of bushes at the edge of a nearby clearing. “Rabbits always hang around, there. If you want dinner.”

His next breath is a bit strained. “Duh. I’m hunting, why wouldn’t I?”

Gerard doesn’t move. “You know… there’s something odd about the way you smell. I’ve thought so since we first met.”

“Since you tried to kill me? And fuck off, I smell fine.” Christ, two comments on his scent in as many days. Frank could punch somebody. Probably the guy currently pressed against his side. 

“Nah, not bad. Just… different.”

Even though Frank would never let him know, he could smell Gerard too. Something like dark water and woodsmoke, spicy and strange. He swallows and edges away from Gerard. “Keep your opinions to yourself, then. I don’t give a shit.”

To his credit, Gerard shuts up. For a moment. “Anything you do give a shit about?”

“My nest. My dinner.”

Gerard taps the side of Frank’s neck, fingers gliding over the scar he’d left behind. “This is healing well.” He pauses before withdrawing his hand. “I’ll leave you to it.”

By the time he gets back to the nest, appetite sated, the feeling of hands on his neck still lingers. He tries not to wonder why.

“I’ll kill you.”

“Nice to see you too, Frankie.”

Frank resolutely refuses to look behind him. “Thought I’ve told you to stay home.”

Gerard sidles up next to him and wraps an arm around his waist, fingers digging into Frank’s side just slightly too hard. “Yeah, yeah. You never come visit me. I don’t exactly have a choice.”

Frank snorts. “Like you’re even here for me.” He shifts away, trying to escape the just-fed heat of Gerard’s body. “Let go.”

Surprisingly, he obeys. “I could totally be here for you.”

“Mmhmm.”

Gerard chuckles and leans up against a tree. “I haven’t seen you in a scrap yet. Still too young to fight, huh?”

“Plenty old enough to hold my own against you,” Frank retorts. “I’ve been there. Not my fault you’re looking in the wrong places.”

He gives Frank this long, odd look, staying quiet for a few moments. “Maybe it’s a good thing. If I saw you, I’d have to kill you.”

“You’d have to try,” Frank corrects, the corner of his mouth curling up into a smile. “And we both know you’d fail.”

“Whatever you say. Just… be careful. It would suck if I couldn’t piss you off again.”

“That’s almost sweet.” Frank shoots him an amused glance. “So- why are you here?”

“A lady never reveals her secrets.”

Frank turns his attention back to the forest, scanning the trees for any hints of movement. “You know, I’m supposed to be watching for enemies. I think you still fall into that category, don’t you? Might wanna leave before I sound the alarm.”

Gerard taps his shoulder twice, leaning in close enough to whisper, “Do it. I dare you.”

Christ. “Just get out of here.”

For a moment, Gerard doesn’t move. His breath is hot on Frank’s jaw. Slowly, slowly, he steps away. “See you later, then.”

Despite his better judgement, Frank almost misses his warmth. It’s cold out here.

Back at the nest, Bert grabs his arm and pulls him to the side, expression tight. “Are you safe? Did you see anything weird while you were out?”

“Weird?” Frank echoes, stomach lurching. If they knew… surely he couldn’t be blamed for Gerard. 

“Looks like scouts have spotted signs of several large-scale enemy excursions into our territory. A good ten vamps in each group, at least.”

The swell of relief is almost overwhelming until the news sinks in. “At least ten? Shit, does that mean-”

“We’re talking it over.” For once, there’s no humor in Bert’s voice. “I think we’re going in tonight.”

“In- you mean, like, all the way? Are we taking the nest?”

“We’re going to try. Just- shit, kid, please stick with me tonight. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Frank’s heart still feels like it’s in his throat. “This seems like a bad fucking idea. We’ve never tried that before.”

Bert pulls him into a quick, rough hug. “Just be careful. You’ll be okay.”

Frank knows he should be worried about his nest. He should be scared that the people he loves will be hurt, should be terrified about what losing this fight might mean for them. There are so many things that could go wrong.

And yet, somehow, he can’t think about anything other than Gerard. Had he known? 

He had seemed so strange earlier. Telling Frank to be careful… that can’t have been a coincidence, that close to a fight. He must’ve known.

So why’d he even show up?

God, Frank hates this. He takes a moment to breathe, huddled in a hidden alcove beneath the warehouse. The air’s warm. It blankets him, swirls around him. Feels like breath on his skin. 

Gerard.

There’s gotta be something wrong with him. Nobody in their right mind would be this preoccupied with the enemy. He stands and hurries through the nest, breath shuddering in his lungs. 

He almost stops to confess. Almost tells Bert how he’s fucked up, but then he’s past the doors and in the cold late afternoon breeze. There’s no point in telling Bert, not now. It’s too late to make a difference.

Instead, he sits with his back pressed against the crumbling walls and tips his head back to rest against a board. Above him, the sky slowly darkens. 

“Time to go.” Bert’s words are gentle. He squats down beside Frank and touches his shoulder. “You okay, man? You’ve seemed pretty out of sorts today.”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Frank says, leaning into Bert’s touch. “Thanks. I just… I guess I’m just worried.”

“We’ll be fine. I promise, dude. Those assholes won’t know what hit them. They’ve crossed the line one too many times.”

“Be careful?” Frank turns to look at Bert, chewing at his lip. 

“Always am.” Bert nudges him. “C’mon, we’ve got this.”

He wants to tell Bert everything so badly. 

“Coming.”

From the top of the ridge, Frank can see for miles. The moon above him is enough to illuminate the forest, lighting up the treetops and making it, to Frank’s eyes, bright as day. He turns for a moment, wondering if Gerard sees the same when he comes over the ridge. It’s much the same, only the mill pond changing the beauty of the wooded landscape. It reflects the light back at the sky, shining almost as brightly as the moon. 

For a moment, all he can think about is the way Gerard’s eyes reflect the moonlight too.

“You ready?”

Frank jumps and turns around. He’s not entirely sure why he feels guilty. “Ready.”

Bert wraps an arm around his shoulders and nods toward the side of another distant ridge. “Apparently the nest is there. The mines are built into the side of the hill- the scouts aren’t super sure which mine tunnel leads to the nest, but they’ve got a hunch that it’s the second tunnel from the left. Our left, that is.”

Frank just wants to scream. “Okay. We going now?”

“Now,” Bert confirms. 

He takes a deep breath and looks out at the pond for a second time. “I still think this is a bad idea.”

Bert leans in and presses a kiss to his temple. It almost brings tears to Frank’s eyes. “Me too. We’ve got this, kid. Let’s go.”

“Let’s go,” Frank echoes. 

All too soon, things go wrong. 

The tunnel is black. Even with his heightened senses, Frank can barely see five feet in front of him. He’s moving blindly in the dark, panting, feet scuffing against fallen rocks and worn stairs. 

Bert’s just ahead of him, his shoulder occasionally brushing Frank’s whenever the tunnel narrows and they’re forced to slow for a moment. Every time, Frank’s tempted to grab and hold on. He balls his hands into fists instead. 

He’s never been scared like this before a fight. He’s never felt so powerless, either; never been so disconnected from his surroundings. Even with dozens of vamps beside him, he feels so alone. It’s just so dark.

He walks straight into Bert’s back, letting out a gasp that echoes far too loudly off the damp rock walls. Bert steadies him. 

“Why’d we stop?” Frank whispers, voice hoarse and high. “What’s going on?”

“Shh.”

Silence.

Once Frank focuses on the lack of louder noises, the subtle, shifting sounds of the tunnel start to creep in on him. Somewhere, liquid’s dripping- a steady plink-plink of water into a pool. There’s a faint breeze from the entrance, far behind them. And then - up ahead - something else. 

Frank has to strain to pick it out from the whispers of noise in the tunnels around him. So does Bert, apparently; he’s stiff, leaning forward. 

“What-”

Frank never gets to finish his sentence. Bert shoves him back, back into a natural crevice in the wall as the tunnel erupts into a cacophony of shouts and snarls and bodies slamming against each other. Above it all, the harshly metallic tang of blood invades his sinuses. 

“Christ, they must’ve been waiting for us” Bert spits, eyes wild in the dark. “Be fucking careful, kid.” He wheels and leaves Frank alone in the crevice, the swirling brawl devouring him. 

Frank can’t breathe. He’s still for what must be the longest moment of his life, willing himself to follow Bert into the writhing mess of vamps inches in front of his face. There’s so much blood. 

Bert, and Ray, and Gerard… he’s going to lose his mind.

He leaps forward. 

Almost immediately, fangs sink into his arm. He yelps and jerks away, blood droplets spattering against his face and against the cave wall. He can’t even see the offender; the fray hides them far too well. He grimaces and presses on, taking swipes at the unfamiliar vamps around him and stepping over fallen bodies, most still moving. None of the faces are recognizable in the gloom, so he doesn’t stop.

He bites a vamp, at one point. His teeth sink deep into their neck, and he knocks them down to keep moving. The taste of their blood on his tongue turns his stomach. 

Frank finally, finally stumbles out of the main press of the fight and looks around wildly, hoping for a glimpse of someone he knows. There’s nothing but more blood and more fallen bodies, these totally still. Too still.

He turns to search the crowd for a familiar face and, instead, feels the full weight of a vamp catch him across the chest. He falls, the rock wall like sandpaper on his back. Through the cries, he can hear his shirt rip. 

Above him, clear as day even in the dark, Gerard.

Frank half expects him to finish the job he started on day one. His eyes are wild enough, teeth bared, no hint of recognition or emotion in his glare. He flinches and recoils, throwing up a hand to block Gerard’s attack, but it never comes.

Gerard doesn’t move. His expression stays flat for a moment, but it crumples into something Frank’s never seen on his face before. There’s no trace of the anger he’d carried only seconds earlier. 

“Gerard?” Frank whispers, staring up at him. The overpowering scent of blood has dimmed, replaced by the same oddly spicy scent he’d noticed several days before. 

“I can’t do it.” Gerard’s grip on his torso relaxes, and one hand smooths over the healing wound on his arm. His words are strained as he continues to speak. “I can’t hurt you, Frank. Get out of here.”

Frank keeps scanning his face, his hands trembling. “Why-”

“Go!”

Gerard shoves himself away and stands there for a moment, face tortured, eyes locked onto Frank’s. “Go.”

Before Frank can say anything else, he’s gone. 

He isn’t quite sure how it happens, but, somehow, he makes it out of the tunnels. The first kiss of night air on his bloodstained skin is enough to draw out a low sob from his throat. He’s alone for the first time in what seems like an eternity.

It’s several minutes before the surviving vamps straggle out of the mines. It’s several minutes more before Frank breaks the bruising hug he traps Bert in after he and Ray leave the tunnels together. 

“I’m okay, man,” Bert whispers in his ear, holding him just as tightly. “We’re good.”

“Let’s go home,” Frank responds, his voice shaking. “Please.”

Frank spends the next several days in the woods, circling between all the places he’s seen Gerard. There’s no sign of him. Besides his own footsteps and wind in the trees, he hears nothing.

He can’t stop thinking about the look on Gerard’s face in the tunnels. He still isn’t quite sure what it meant; there was something behind his eyes that Frank doesn’t have a name for, even after picturing it for hours. It had been so raw, so scared. 

And then Gerard had pulled away. 

Frank ends up back in the clearing he had first seen Gerard in, what feels like so long ago. There are no deer, no vamps hidden in the grass. Just an empty space in the trees and a dimly lit sky over his head. 

He sits against a tree, drawing his knees to his chest. If that expression is the last he ever sees of Gerard… Frank genuinely doesn’t know how he’ll handle it. He wants him back more badly than he can say. He’ll even take the pain of another attack if it means Gerard survived the night. 

He wants Gerard’s hands on him again.

Frank pushes himself up on shaky legs and follows the contours of the clearing, his arm occasionally brushing the trunks as he walks. He might never see Gerard again. The fight was so confusing, so dark- if Gerard was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, or if he took on the wrong opponent… 

He sucks in a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut. It had just been so dark.

It crosses his mind, briefly, that Gerard might just not want to see him again. He’d prefer that, if it was the case; at least, then, he would be safe. The thought of Gerard among the broken figures on the tunnel floor sends bile into the back of his throat. 

Frank sinks back down, dew soaking through his jeans. He has to be okay. He just has to be.

He doesn’t move for several hours. 

He’s back in the clearing the next night, and the night after that. 

It rains that evening. He stays huddled under a fir tree, the needles protecting him from the worst of the storm. He’s still soaked to the bone by the time the weather clears. 

Even through the rich scent of wet loam and rotting leaves, he swears he can smell Gerard. There’s still no sign of him, no sounds, nothing but the phantom almost-there spice that he wishes he could taste. He hates his imagination.

Frank reluctantly steps out from under the tree, combing the damp hair from his eyes. He can’t stay here. If Bert knew he was spending every night outside, waiting for a vamp that may never appear, he’d kill him again. 

He turns to go home.

“You’re soaked.”

Frank stops short, tensing. The smell’s so strong. 

Behind him, footsteps in the grass. “Frank?”

He inhales sharply, a ragged gasp. He’s not sure he can move.

“Were you- have you been waiting for me?” 

He finally turns. Gerard’s standing in the middle of the clearing, that same strange, vulnerable look in his eyes as he gazes at Frank. 

Frank’s across the clearing and wrapped around him before he knows he’s moving. Gerard stumbles back, letting out a surprised “oof”, and then his arms are around Frank’s torso and holding him tight. It’s the warmest he’s felt in weeks.

“You were waiting,” Gerard whispers. He sounds awed. “Weren’t you?”

“Where were you?” Frank chokes, his throat tight. “I thought you were dead, asshole.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think- I honestly didn’t expect you to want to see me again.”

Frank makes a confused sound and Gerard hurriedly continues, “I thought I had scared you, or hurt you- fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He finally pulls away, eyelashes wet. “Don’t you dare do that again. I thought I had lost you.”

“You-” Gerard hesitates. He scans Frank’s face. “You didn’t want to lose me?”

Frank shakes his head. “I was so scared,” he breathes, the confession barely audible. 

Gerard’s so close. He raises a hand, haltingly, and runs his thumb over Frank’s cheek. “You- a tear,” he explains. He’s almost as quiet as Frank. “I thought you hated me.”

Frank’s hands are trembling where they rest against Gerard’s back. “I can’t. I’ve tried.”

He’s just so close. His hand lingers on Frank’s cheek before he moves it down to cup his jaw. “Frank-”

Frank kisses him.

Gerard immediately relaxes against him, holding him close and inhaling as he kisses back. “Thought you-” he mumbles, parting his lips. “Thought I’d never get this.”

He digs his fingers into Gerard’s shoulders. “It’s yours,” he says, leaning in to kiss him again. “Always yours.”

They end up under the fir, Frank never leaving Gerard’s arms. 

Gerard’s uncharacteristically quiet, when his mouth isn’t on Frank’s; he doesn’t have a single snide comment to make. Frank wants to chalk it up to nerves, or excitement, or something, but the air feels too tense. He opens his mouth to speak, but Gerard beats him to it.

“Are we doing the wrong thing?”

Frank blinks at him, his lips tingling. “Wrong? What do you mean?”

“I mean… shit, we aren’t supposed to do this. Our nests- if they found us-”

“I don’t care.” Frank knows it’s reckless, knows that they’d be risking everything, but he can’t lose Gerard now. “This can’t be wrong. We aren’t wrong.”

Gerard sighs softly, lifting Frank’s hand to his lips. “For us… Frank, I know you’re young, but- surely you know how permanent this can be? If we get attached-”

“I know,” he says. “Bert - my sire - told me how it works. We mate-”

“For life,” Gerard finishes. “Frank, sweetheart, I can’t ask that of you. It would be selfish.”

“Life’s a long time,” Frank whispers. “It might not always be this hard. We could be okay.”

“But-”

“I want this. I want you. I’m not fucking scared.”

Gerard kisses him again, long, slow, lingering. “Then- we’ll figure it out.” His relief is palpable as he strokes Frank’s hair. “We’ll be okay.”

“We will,” Frank murmurs. 

Through the branches of the fir, the moon slowly sets. Frank can’t care less. He knows they’ll have to go home soon, have to put up a front, but, for now, with Gerard in his arms, there’s nothing to be afraid of.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Sugar In the Sacrament by Thursday! Give it a listen if you haven't yet, they're a fantastic group and this song is full of religious trauma.
> 
> I'm SO glad I was able to participate in this challenge! It gave me the opportunity to write a vampire au- something I've been wanting to write for years. If this was your prompt- I hope you love it! Thanks so much to throwupsparkles for moderating the coolest challenges ever.
> 
> There's a good chance I'll end up writing a sequel to this. There's way too much to love about this world to abandon it after a single fic, so keep an eye out for that! 
> 
> Also, a huge thanks to my incredible beta readers ashottoremember, mitch23k and coffinz. You guys are my best friends in the world and this story wouldn't be even close to as good without you. Love you all.


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